


lucky strike

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Making Out, Smoking Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fujigaya has to quit smoking.





	lucky strike

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

When Fujigaya has to quit smoking—for his _health_ , Yokoo reminds him as he hides his own pack of cigarettes—basically everyone is supportive. That is to say that they leave him alone and cover up any and all traces of their own smoking with so much cologne that their meeting room smells like a brothel.

 _Almost_ everyone. Fujigaya’s nose picks out the scent like a wolf smells its prey, though it’s not hard to pinpoint the culprit when he’s sitting right next to him. He spends the entire meeting just nodding and agreeing with Kitayama, hoping he isn’t agreeing to anything too embarrassing, his full attention on the smoky smell that lingers on Tamamori’s coat.

He’s so dazed that he doesn’t notice it’s break time until Tamamori gets up, cigarettes in hand, and Fujigaya starts to follow him on instinct. Three people grab at his jacket, shoving him right back into his seat, and Fujigaya huffs and pouts like a child as what feels like everything within him wants to breathe in the familiar scent that alone calms his nerves.

“Eh?” Tamamori asks, turning around in confusion. “Why can’t Gaya come outside?”

“He has to quit,” Yokoo says firmly. “The doctor said his blood pressure is entirely too high for someone his age.”

“Because I’m _working_ a lot,” Fujigaya snaps, yet another energy outburst from the nicotine withdrawal, but Yokoo doesn’t relent.

“Relax,” Tamamori says calmly, and Fujigaya wants to punch him in the face for saying that when he’s the one with the cigarettes. “Let him come with me. I promise I won’t let him smoke.”

Yokoo eyes Tamamori like a hawk, then releases Fujigaya, who nearly falls out of his chair to scramble to Tamamori’s side like he’d been magnetically attracted there. In a way, he had, and he doesn’t bother holding back as he presses his face into Tamamori’s coat and breathes in deeply.

Tamamori’s laughter vibrates his nose and gentle fingers rake through his hair. “Come on, let’s go.”

Fujigaya manages to pry himself away from Tamamori long enough to walk around the corner and out the side door, where thankfully no other idols are lingering. It’s pretty damn cold outside, so one has to be really desperate for a fix. Right now, Fujigaya’s way beyond desperate.

“Okay,” Tamamori says, like he’d just decided something important by leaning against the wall. Fujigaya watches him light the cigarette, the red tip glowing as he takes the first inhale, and Fujigaya remembers this feeling all too well. Tamamori’s eyes fall shut, his chest heaving and his head leaning back as he breathes in, and the smoke he blows out is extra white due to the temperature.

His eyes don’t open all the way, but Fujigaya can see that Tamamori’s looking at him, and suddenly nicotine isn’t the only thing he’s craving. He watches Tamamori suck down the entire cigarette in just a few drags, clearly an expert at smoking fast without wasting any of it, and his collar is in Tamamori’s hand the second he flicks the butt over the railing.

It takes Fujigaya’s brain so long to catch up with his body that he’s already sucking on Tamamori’s tongue by the time it registers that they’re kissing. Tamamori’s an asshole and a genius at the same time, arms wrapped tightly around Fujigaya’s back as he gives it back just as much as he gets and all Fujigaya knows is cold air and hot mouths and that taste he’s come to miss so much.

His hands fist Tamamori’s coat and he would curse his own vulnerability if he wasn’t so ridiculously high off of Tamamori—the secondhand nicotine as well as Tamamori himself. He keeps kissing Tamamori even after he’s not shaking anymore, when it’s no longer about smoking, at least not completely.

Tamamori lets it go for quite awhile, Fujigaya helpless to stop it himself even if he wanted to, whining almost pitifully when Tamamori finally pulls away. “Better?”

“Much,” Fujigaya replies, and it’s true. “Can you do that every couple of hours or so?”

Smirking, Tamamori drops his arms to Fujigaya’s waist and yanks him forward so fast that he grinds their lower halves together. “I think we can work something out.”


End file.
